


Thy Rod and Thy Staff

by SalaciousSister



Category: Original Work
Genre: Church Sex, Crying, Desk Sex, M/M, Pedophilia, Priest Abuse, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Kissing, Self-Denial, Short, Shorts (Clothing), Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalaciousSister/pseuds/SalaciousSister
Summary: A man can only take so much teasing, a holy man can take much and then some. "Some" being the key word.
Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Male Character
Kudos: 26





	Thy Rod and Thy Staff

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't and should never be; real, serious, or re-enacted.  
> ~sxs

This new boy would be the end of Father Ed. He’s way too cute. He’s a dollar coin in a pocket full of pennies. Everything about him screams too good for his own good and he was too susceptible to the sinful sways of a hug.

“Hello Faduh Eddy!”

He had issues with the ‘T’ sound in words which must make it harder for those with weaker wills to keep their hands from tearing the boy apart - Unlike Father Ed. His constant need for physical affection would make it difficult to go hours without simply assaulting the boy’s body to no end - For someone weaker than the willful Father Ed. He had it all figured out. He knew that this boy was unintentionally promiscuous, from is perfect soft little feet to his long girlish locks. This boy was pure but cursed with the body of a lascivious demon. A very generous curse indeed.

He bounces on his heels waiting for the holy man to acknowledge him. “Hold your tongue Garam, I will be with you soon.”

“Okay! Ah…”

The boy was adorably literal, whether in jest or sincerity it never failed so make one blush or chuckle. The young Garam was holding his tongue between both thumbs and pointers on each side looking up proudly to show that he was obedient.

A much more impulsive and indulgent individual might have dug their fingers into that soft head of hair and _skewered_ the boy on their unmentionables. Using their lust to ruin the boy’s throat and savoring every whimper, gag, and tear that the boy produces until they force their _wicked_ seed into his _tiny_ little belly and as the boy wheezes and coughs they might feel brave enough to bend the boy over and go in for seconds…

 _A much more impulsive and indulgent individual_ than Father Ed would commit such a terrible and sinful crime of course. Father Ed was a man of god who was not able to comprehend let alone think of such an action. He shifts in his seat to accompany a new, random, unannounced, unwarranted, and unrelated stiffness.

“How may I help you young one?” He smiles.

“Well, everyone else is gone so I dought id would be okay if I dayed in your office for a while. Jus undil my mommy picks me up?” There’s a hit of juvenile fear and naughtiness in the half question and a bit of a compliment as well.

“Yes, that would be a good idea. It gets lonely here after hours so I suppose you could sit here with me…” His voice much like his eyes trail downwards to the boy’s smooth and grip friendly legs that his shorts hang from.

The boy smiles and suddenly begins to clamber up the office chair that Father Ed is reclined in. He freezes up and keeps absolutely still as the boy settles himself into the mans lap proving what he had feared. This boy was soft all over.

To reiterate just how good of intention and will Father Ed is, allow me to explain how a sinner- no, how any below average, mediocre, or ordinary man might respond in his situation.

Anyone of lesser mind would have _slammed_ the boy face first into the mound of paperwork, _yanked_ down those loose easy shorts of his, and _tore_ into him. They would’ve drilled into his soon to be bloody and tight hole savoring every pained _whine_ and _grunt_ that manages to slip from between the fingers of a hand over his mouth. Perhaps digging a few into his soft little mouth, for a taste of times to come? Perhaps elicit pleasure from the young one’s pain? Perhaps groom him into a sinner himself so that every day they might smell his soft, beautify hair and flesh…

Of course, this is no description close of even Father Ed’s furthest removed relative. Nowhere near even a vague description of the strong holy man that is Father Ed G. Harrison II. Not even close. In fact, I _laugh_ at the very idea of the notion...

Hahaha. Yes, a good laugh indeed.

Meanwhile whilst the Father was busy having the purest and professionally responsible thoughts possible, Garam was busy going on about his day.

“-and den he drew a really cool angel wid six wings!” The boy beams happily.

Father Ed realizes his hand had been lingering and caressing the boy’s smooth and perfect thigh subconsciously. He pulls away as Garam continues on his tirade about arts and crafts as he leans back giving Father Ed a good whiff of his hair. He smells like candy and sweat, a blend of smells that he can almost taste on his tongue. Of course, he would never as-

Garam turns around in the man’s lap getting close to his face. Very close to his face. Father Ed could see forever into the boy’s prophetic eyes that surely have a eulogetic tear or two in them for the Father, their lips were almost touching. See, this was another perfect example of just how moral and good Father Ed is as a holy man as any other heathen would-

**Fuck it.**

He grabs the boy by his perfect little shoulders and thrusts his lips into the other’s. The one with softest skin whines in mix of protest and surprise. Yes, more sounds please! He grips at his leg hard enough for it to hurt just a little. He grunts adorably as an alien tongue worms around in his tiny little mouth.

When they disconnect, when they run out of air, in the heat of the moment there is a wild fear from both parties. Would he scream? Would he cry and proclaim his hate for the preacher? Would he burn in hell?

The Garam lets out a heavy and loaded sigh as his eyes knit upward on his perfectly smooth face. Garam kisses Father Ed this time, somehow even rougher and better. There’s so much force and hot, sweet tasting spit behind it and his little fingers pull on the fabric of his vestments.

For a while there’s a playful tug of war between the two, one groping or kissing better or more than the other one. They rock back and forth while they wrestle with each other’s tongues, fingers looping into hair, and stiff members grinding into one another.

Final Father Ed has enough and knocks the poor boy over. Splayed out on the study desk, hair in a messy halo, lips wet with drool and spit, back arched in need. He is a juicy and very tempting fruit with promise of unknowable knowledge.

He doesn’t think about how young the boy is or if the boy even knows what is about to happen or if the boy would even like it, he digs into his meal. Like a beast with too many mouths he attacks the small one’s neck with rough hickeys and licks that force out whines and shivers. The fear of nakedness and use for clothes burns out quickly as the young Garam finds himself pumping helplessly into the air, beckoning stimulation from all who may lay eyes on his distressed and needy form.

It’s more clear than ever in the crystalline sparkle of the child’s eyes, tears threatening at the imposing edge. Father Ed rips the innocence’s bottoms off, underwear and all leaving a perfect juvenile sex to pop out as his cloth hangs on his knees. For a moment there is regret but it passes to quickly for either to notice.

He spreads the boy’s perfect plush-like thighs to find a matching hole, a tight and warm entrance for anyone who dares. There it is again, regret from seemingly nowhere. He smears at the entrance and teases it with his natural fluids for his arrival.

In his youth he would’ve remembered to bring little more than his wit, he had not protection or at the bare minimum lubrication. Unless he could- yes, that would do well enough. The man lifts himself up over the child and dips into his mouth like a pen to an inkwell. The boy’s teeth are small and dull, they barely register on the holy man’s member. For a few seconds he enjoys the warmth of an innocent mouth, kneeling of the desk with arms on the edge ready to pull himself back down.

When his shoes meet the floor again Garam doesn’t sputter or spit out the salty taste on his tongue. Father Ed grabs the cursed youth’s leg in a last gesture of praise. He takes in a deep breath catching the scent of citrus on his skin with a hint of sugar in his sweat. Garam was truly a thing of beauty.

The man formerly known as Father Ed, Eddy to his victim, pulled the child forward with meaningful grace and pressed against him bottom. There was the sound of protest, a mix between "No!", "Wait!", but in the moment it came out as more of a "Nuht Whu!". The unholy man ignored this plea. The tears in the boy’s eyes shook in threatening rage at the preacher but he paid no mind as he entered the body of innocence, pushing deep into the forbidden garden.

True to their threats and promises, the tears follow through as a cry echoes throughout the empty church. They fall. Like blood they fall and drip down the flesh of a once pure, virgin, and exuberant youth.

**Author's Note:**

> with my drafts gone i have to use fragments of my memories to remember them. this was one of them. i might write a shotasona later, maybe 2.


End file.
